


The Sneezles

by Lisdangerous87



Category: Blink-182
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-30
Updated: 2014-05-30
Packaged: 2018-01-27 02:43:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1712024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lisdangerous87/pseuds/Lisdangerous87
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mark is upset at Tom for getting him sick.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Sneezles

"Aaaa-" Tom paused, lifting his elbow to catch his sneeze. After lowering it slightly, the rest of it caught up to him, nearly knocking him over on stage. 

"Aachoo!" Tom groaned as he reached for the roll of toilet paper sitting on a large speaker next to him. 

"This is fucking ridiculous! I've been sick for like, two weeks!" Tom complained, walking over to Mark as he adjusted a knob on his bass pedal. 

"Quit whining. Just be glad it's only an occasional sneeze. You could still have your high fever and we'd have to cancel another show." Mark reasoned. 

The bassist wiped at his nose before playing a few notes on the four stringed instrument. 

"Mark?" 

"Ugh, What Tom, what?" Mark looked over at his friend, an annoyed expression on his face. 

Tom frowned at Mark's short fuse. "I was just going to ask if you wanted to come with me when I run to Starbucks in a little bit."

"No, I'm gonna stay here. I need to figure out why my bass doesn't sound right." Mark answered, pushing his bass behind his body and squatted to fiddle with the knobs some more.

"It sounds fine to me..." Tom pouted, kicking a scuffed Macbeth shoe across the stage. 

"No," Mark argued, getting slightly worked up, "it's not fine, something is off with the pitch and I'm not going to just ditch it to go get your stupid coffee, that tastes like shit anyways, so I can sound horrible tonight like I did last night!"

Tom pulled his head back, physically retracting himself from the venom in Mark's words. He turned and left Mark alone, instead walking to the speakers near Travis. 

Tom reached into a large glass bowl half full with Sour Patch Kids. He flinched when a red candy hit him on the left cheek. He looked up at Travis who was sitting at his drum set. 

"You're right you know. His bass sounds just like it's supposed to." Travis grinned at the younger man and popped another sour candy into his mouth. 

Mark spun around on his heels and stomped over to his two bandmates. "Don't fucking talk about me like I'm not even hear!" He shouted, his throat burned and he tried clearing it before continuing. 

"Why can't you just both fuck off and leave me alone to practice obviously I'm the only one that feels we need to practice today. Our show is only in nine hours!" 

Tom frowned and dropped his eyes to the floor, Travis speaking for the both of them. "Dude, what crawled up your ass and died? You need to relax. We're telling you, man, your beat sounds awesome. Quit fucking with it!"

Mark looked intently at the two friends, going back and forth between them. "Are you fucking with me?" He questioned, squinting his blue eyes particularly at his youngest bandmate. 

Tom shook his head frantically before letting out another loud sneeze. 

It was another strong sneeze, it caused his warm brown eyes to squeeze shut. When he opened them, he was faced with a very upset Mark. 

"How do you always manage to sneeze, right on my fucking face, you dipshit!" Mark yelled at Tom, wiping his face with the bottom of his HMNIM tshirt. 

Tom gave a sad frown at his friend, pulling a tissue from his pants pocket and held it out to Mark. 

"I don't need your fucking tissu-" Mark couldn't finish his sentence as a loud sneeze caught him off guard. 

The tall man groaned and grabbed for the now needed tissue and wiped his nose, cursing Tom as he did. 

"You! You did this to me! I'm getting sick from you!" Mark pointed a finger at Tom as he finished with his nose. 

Tom's eyebrows raised as he held both hands up innocently. "It's not my fault!"

Travis chuckled, "So that's why you're in this god awful mood!"

Tom slowly began to back up, picking up speed as he saw Mark moving towards him, taking off his bass strap from across his chest. 

Tom turned and darted off stage, panting heavily at the exertion he was putting forth, not being completely healed from his flu. 

Mark was closing in on him. Tom began to scream out, "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I didn't mean to!"

Coming up to his dressing room, Tom slid in past the open door and tried to shut it before Mark could make it in. However, Mark had only been a step behind the younger man and plowed into him as Tom turned to slam the door shut. 

"No, no, no! Mark, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to get you sick!" Tom apologized, backing up to his leather couch. He fell back against it as Mark toppled onto him, swinging tightly clenched fists at Tom's still sick body. 

"Ouch! Mark! Stop, you're hurting my back!" Tom scrunched up his face in pain, trying to push the older man off of him. 

Mark immediately fell to the side. Sitting up on his knees, he checked on the groaning man. Seeing that he was alright, Mark put his head in his hands. 

Tom sat up and cracked his back. He reached for Mark's bent head. "You know, you could just ask me to take care of you like you do for me."

Mark sat back on the floor and sneezed. "I can't be sick. I never get sick. It's all cause of you and your damn puppy dog eyes asking me to hold you and cuddle you, meanwhile you're passing on the Black Plague to me."

Tom bit his lip, pulling on what used to be his lip ring hole. 

"You'd think that at 36 you'd have grown out of that, being a giant baby when you get sick." Mark huffed, looking at his phone. 

He scrolled through a few pages before groaning and standing up. Tom watched from the couch as he stood up and left the room. 

Tom looked at the door with confusion. Getting up and walking to the doorway, Tom saw the back of Mark enter his own dressing room and close the door. 

The brown eyed guitarist made his way to his backpack on the far side of the couch and dug around in it, finally pulling out his hand wrapped around his keychain. 

On his way out the door, Tom snagged his green military style hat and pulled it onto his head. He passed by Travis, waving to him and asking the drummer if he wanted anything from Starbucks. 

"Uh, can you get me one of those Tazo tea things? Something pomegranate or cranberry flavored." Travis scratched at his head and thanked Tom when he nodded. 

Tom left the venue, typing in Starbucks to his iPhone at a stoplight. He could have sworn he saw one on his drive in earlier today, but wasn't positive. He was still hyped up on DayQuil when he drove here earlier. 

Bopping his head around as he listened to music, he pulled into the drive thru. Tom placed his iced latté order and asked about Travis' juice. When the young man asked if that was all in his order, Tom hesitated before ordering a tall caramel macchiato for Mark. 

Tom pulled forwards and drove slowly up to the window. He smiled at the jaw dropped face of the young man in his uniform, as the kid recognized Tom. 

"Can I...can I have..." The kid asked.

Tom chuckled and nodded, signing his name quickly before taking his drinks and handing the kid a twenty. 

After receiving his change, Tom drove off on his way back to rehearsals. 

^*^*^*^*^*^

"Hey Trav! I got your drink dude." Tom knocked on Travis' dressing room door. When he heard a reply, he pushed open the heavy door and tossed the blue eyed man his juice. 

Tom took a sip from his drink before looking around awkwardly and glancing side to side before pursing his lips and said, "Okay. Bye."

Tom turned quickly and walked to Mark's dressing room. He knocked on the door and waited.

He knocked again. 

And again. 

On the fourth time, Tom tried the handle. It was unlocked, so the curious guitarist pushed open the door. The lights were off in Mark's room. 

Tom called out quietly for his friend. "Mark? Mark you in here?"

Holding the little coffee carrying tray in one hand, he reached out and felt along the cool walls for the light switch. 

When he found it, he flipped it on and turned to search for Mark. He smiled when he found him, sprawled on the couch, arms folded across his chest. 

Tom moved closer to the sleeping man, sipping his coffee before placing the drinks on a nearby table. Tom bit his lip, an old habit he had rediscovered while touring with Mark again. 

The tall singer furrowed his eyebrows when he noticed the sleeping man shiver. Looking around, Tom saw no blankets or even a towel to throw over the older man. 

He looked again at Mark when the bassist began to shiver, pushing himself further into the leather couch, trying to seek warmth. 

Mark had developed a small sad frown in his sleep, and that bothered Tom. Tom poked at Mark. 

"Mark? You awake?"

Mark smacked his lips and raised his middle finger to Tom. "I was until you came in here like a rhino and made such a racket!"

Peeping one tired blue eye open, Mark watched as Tom turned and picked up a small coffee drink. "I got this for you. Glad I got the hot one for you."

Mark sat up and took the macchiato. He sipped it and looked up at Tom. "Why?"

Mark raised his eyebrows when Tom gave him a weird look. "You were shivering." Tom stated, confused by Mark's confusion. 

Mark shrugged. "I feel a little cold, but not enough to be shivering."

Mark slurped at his drink, finishing it quickly before dropping it to the side of the couch and reclined on it again. 

Tom looked around Mark's dressing room and sighed. Mark sneezed and held up his hand in front if his nose. "Help! Tissue! Tissue! I need a tissue!" He said in a high pitched voice. 

Tom dug into his pocket and pulled out a crumpled tissue. "Here you go." 

Mark squinted. "Gross. Did you already use it?"

Tom shrugged, unsure he replied, "I don't know! Do you need one or not?"

Tom held on the small wrinkled rectangle. Mark took it regretfully, and began to wipe at his nose. 

"You did this." Mark spoke quietly. 

Tom moaned and threw back his head dramatically, stomping his foot. "I didn't mean to, Mark! You never get sick, I always do, and you always..." Tom got quiet as he looked into Mark's eyes, "take care of me."

"Well I guess I am losing my immunity to you in my old age." Mark rubbed his forehead and closed his eyes. 

Tom looked at his older friend, taking a step forwards and stared at him. "Can I help you?"

"You've already done enough, Tom." Mark frowned at the standing man as he shifted about on the couch, trying to find a comfortable position. 

"No, but I can-" Mark cut off Tom as he spoke, holding up a hand. 

"No, really Tom. You've done enough. Let me get some sleep for a couple hours. If I don't, I may end up blowing up at you." Mark closed his eyes and crossed his arms, showing he was done with the conversation with Tom. 

Tom was not happy about this dismissal. 

Deciding he's had enough of this bullshit, Tom moved towards Mark with purpose. Tom pulled at Mark's shoulders, sitting the surprised man up and hopped on one foot to get close to Mark.

He slid around Mark's back and squeezed himself in between Mark's warm back and the leather. Pulling the older man back against his chest, Tom begins to speak as Mark protests. 

"Oh, just stop it. I'm going to help get you better. It's the least I can do after probably the million times you took care of me in the past 20 years." 

Tom feels Mark shiver and cranes his head to look at Mark's face, which is turned away from him. Reaching an arm around, Tom feels Mark's forehead. 

"You're burning up, Mark." 

Mark shakes away Tom's hand, but snuggles deeper into the warm body behind him. "Stop. Just wanna sleep." Mark mumbles. 

Tom nods and pulls tight on Mark's chest, making the older man turn and curl into him. Tom closes his eyes to rest with Mark, a small smile making its way onto his face. 

^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^

Tom was having a dream that he was at the beach. It was the middle of the day and it was boiling out. In fact, no matter if he was swimming in the waves or eating ice cream in the shade he was too hot. It was starting to get uncomfortable. 

Tom awoke with a start. He had dreamt he had caught on fire. Little did he realize, it wasn't him who was burning up, but the man laying on top of him that had his temperature on the rise. 

"Mark? Dude you need to wake up! You're on fire, I'm going to get you the tour physician. I don't even think medicine could help you." Tom said, shaking Mark awake. 

Tom checked his watch, he had been asleep for only an hour. How could Mark's temperature rise so quickly? This was more than the little flu he had. 

Tom pushed Mark into a sitting position, noticing how lethargic his friend had become. Mark started to fall forwards, not being able to keep his body upright. Tom grabbed for him and turned him so he could look at Mark's face. 

The bassist's cheeks were flushed, slightly damp from his fever. Tom noticed his eyes barely opened when he called his name. 

"Mark! Mark, come on man, you're scaring me." Tom shook his friend, as if that would help. Tom scooted out from behind Mark and squatted in front of the couch. A shiver overtook Mark and made him fall back against the leather. 

"That's it, I'm going to get the doctor." Tom whispered to himself, standing up and moving to the door. 

A small moan met his ears, and caused him to stop walking and turn to Mark. Tom's shoulders slumped a little when he saw what his sick friend was doing. 

Mark was trying to lift his arms out to Tom, his fingers wiggling and making grabby motions. The sad look on his face was evident everywhere, from the wrinkles on his forehead, down to his nearly tearful frown that made his chin look even more pronounced and cleft-like. His eyes were big, much different from the half open state they were in moments ago and his eyebrows were furrowed full of displeasure at the thought of being left alone. 

"No, no, --ay" Mark's voice had gone rough, not being able to fully pronounce his words.

Tom watched Mark's cracked lips as he tried to form the word again. "St-" his voice cracked again, strained from phlegm that was collecting in his nasal cavity. 

"Stay?" Tom questioned, and smiled when Mark nodded. Mark reached out again for Tom, and the younger man gladly collected Mark in his arms. He sat back down next to the sick man and pulled him into a hug. 

"Mark, you really need to see the doctor though, I'm serious, you're really sick! Let me just grab someone from the doorway and I'll be back to stay with you." Tom tried to convince Mark, running his hand through Mark's deflating hair. 

Against what he wanted, Mark nodded an agreement, nuzzling Tom for a moment before letting him go to the doorway. 

Tom stood and looked back at the slumped man before opening the heavy door. He peered out and grabbed a stagehand as soon as one walked by. "Hey, Rory, I need a favor. Can you find Dr. Asher? Mark's sick. Like bad." 

The young stagehand raised both eyes and stepped closer to Tom. He groaned, "Like real bad? Like show cancel bad? I just finished adjusting all the lights!" 

Tom's eyes darkened, "Hey, it's not like Mark meant to get sick, just go get the fucking doctor!"

Rory boldly rolled his light eyes and turned, huffing off to find the physician. Tom closed the door almost the whole way and turned around, making his way back to the lightly moaning man. 

Tom kneeled on the floor and helped push Mark back so he was laying all the way on the couch. Mark shook his head and tried to turn on his side. Tom helped roll him and ran his hand through Mark's hair until there was a knock at the door. 

"It's open!" Tom shouted. 

Both eyes landed on a man about their age, with blonde hair and thick rimmed dark glasses. "Dr. Asher, Mark's not doing well." Tom explained, moving to the side so the doctor could get closer. 

Mark groaned quietly and pulled his knees up into his chest. A mumbled noise left Mark's lips, his head tilting slightly. Tom heard a "T" sound and leaned over the arm of the couch, placing his head near Mark's. 

"I'm here, dude. Relax. He's just going to make sure you're not dying." Tom whispered, looking up at the doctor as he pulled out a thermometer. 

Dr. Asher pressed a small black button on the white thermometer, causing the small instrument to beep. He held out the slim stick near Mark's mouth and said, "Open up!"

Mark clamped his mouth tighter and shook his head. "Ah," the doctor said, "So you're the one that doesn't like doctors. Okay I guess we'll have to do this the hard way. Pull down your pants, we'll do it rectally."

Mark opened his mouth to protest and frowned when the doctor stuck the thermometer in his mouth. Mark pushed it out and turned his head, pushing his face into the couch. 

"Mark!" Tom admonished, "I know you're not he happiest camper right now, but please do what the doctor asks. We're just trying to help." 

Dr. Asher reset the thermometer and held it out to Tom. "You try. I'll listen to his lungs while you do that." Tom took the instrument while the doctor reached into his black bag for his stethoscope. 

Mark turned to watch what his friend was doing. Tom placed the silver tip up to Mark's tight lips. "Come on Mark, cooperate."

Still pouting, Mark opened his mouth the slightest bit and raised his tongue. Tom smiled and made airplane noises while he flew the thermometer into Mark's mouth. 

Blue eyes crinkled with a small giggle. 

Tom smiled back and ran his hand over Mark's forehead, wiping the sweat that had formed there onto his jeans. Tom scooted to the side while the doctor moved closer, raising the chest piece. Dr. Asher pulled at the bottom of Mark's tshirt, earning a shove from the sick man. 

"Mark! You don't push a doctor! Jeez," Tom exclaimed, and began to direct his words at the doctor. "I don't know what's gotten into him, he doesn't do well being sick. I'm sorry."

Dr. Asher chuckled, "It's alright. Want to try lifting the shirt?"

Tom swallowed and nodded, taking a peek at Mark before reaching out to lift up the hem of Mark's blue tshirt. Dr. Asher reached out, ready to slide his arm underneath the fabric to listen to Mark's lungs. 

Once again, Mark's hands swung at the doctor, causing both men to groan. "What the fuck, Mark. Stop it." Tom was getting a little fed up with the older man. 

The thermometer beeped and Tom pulled it out, handing it to the doctor. Dr. Asher adjusted his glasses before reading the small digital number. "Well, it's not great but it could be worse. 102.7. That's pretty high for a man your age."

Mark listened to the doctors words. Distracted, Tom pulled at Mark's shirt, taking his arm and pulling it through the sleeve so the cloth was hanging off half his body. Tom bunched the fabric around his neck and nodded at the doctor. "Go ahead, I'll keep his hands still."

Mark frowned and groaned, earning a chuckle from Tom. "Not happening, Mark. Just let him finish."

The doctor worked quickly, listening to both lungs and his heart. He placed the stethoscope back into his bag and reached out his hands up under Mark's armpits. He pressed and asked, "Is this sore?"

Mark nodded, his frown growing. The doctor then placed his hands at the top of Mark's neck, under each side of his jaw. "How about here?" He asked, pressing gently. 

The doctor retracted his hands quickly as the mew of pain left Mark's throat. Tom frowned and quickly reached out, petting Mark's hair for comfort. He helped him back into his shirt and moved around to sit near Mark's head on the arm of the couch. 

"His lymph nodes are swollen, pretty severely. His body is fighting hard." The doctor pulled out a short black tube with a light on one end and a scope on the other. He moved closer to Mark, explaining that he needed to look up each of his nostrils. 

Mark looked up to Tom and reached for him. Tom blushed as his eyes flickered to the doctor's watchful stare. Tom slid down the arm of the couch and lifted Mark's head, gently placing it back down on his lap. 

Tom's hands found Mark's, softly threading their fingers like Mark used to for him when he was ill. Mark turned his head and focused on Tom's warm brown eyes. "It's okay." Tom whispered, comforting Mark. 

Dr. Asher leaned in, placing the instrument up Mark's right nostril and clicked on the light. He pushed the scope further up, apologizing for the discomfort. He pulled it back out and did the same for Mark's left nostril. 

"There's a lot of inflammation." Dr. Asher explained, putting the instrument away.

Mark sneezed and groaned, water prickling his eyes. Tom pushed the hair off Mark's forehead and watched as the doctor stood and turned to the two men. 

"He's got a bad cold, he needs to rest otherwise it could turn into something worse. He needs to blow his nose as much as possible, keep his sinuses clear. What I just saw could easily lead to sinusitis. There was a lot of mucus in his lungs, so if he can cough that stuff up too, it will help." 

Tom nodded, listening and absorbing everything the doctor said. Mark had closed his eyes and turned, pressing his nose into Tom's soft stomach. 

The doctor continued, "He can take DayQuil every 4-6 hours and try NyQuil at night. If he's sleeping you don't need to wake him up for him to take the medicine, rest is most important. I'm going to advise that you don't perform tonight. Mark's fever needs to get down. The medicine should help but, if it continues to rise, call me and I'll decide whether he should go to the hospital."

Tom's eyes widened at the thought of having to bring Mark to the hospital and the fears he would have about that. Going to see the doctor was a big deal for Mark, and he hated hospitals. The only times he went was for the birth of Jack and to stay with Travis after the accident. 

The doctor left the two band members. Tom looked down at Mark who had fallen asleep on his lap. "God, Mark, why do you have to look so cute when you're sick?"

Tom sighed and played with Mark's hair for a couple minutes. His phone buzzed in his pocket, stirring Mark. Tom whispered an apology and shifted the half awake bassist to pull out his phone. 

He saw Travis was calling and answered. "Hey man."

"Sup, Tom? Where are you and Mark at?" Travis asked, loud noise in the background. Travis had to of been walking around backstage looking for the two. 

"We're in Mark's dressing room. Shit hit the fan dude. Mark's not doing well." Tom explained, shifted the phone to hug his shoulder. 

"Alright, I'll be there in a moment." Travis hung up. Two minutes later there was a knock at the door. 

Tom looked up as the door was pushed open, Travis walking in. He raised an eyebrow at the two men on the couch. "What's up homos?" 

Tom blushed at the greeting, trying to pull his fingers out of Mark's grasp but failed. "Got a high fever, sneezing and sounds pretty congested. Doc said tonight's show is a no go."

"Fuck really? We just cancelled a show two weeks ago because of you, the fans are not gonna be happy." Travis stood there, staring at the way Mark burrowed into Tom's stomach.

Tom tried to sit up more, pulling back slightly from Mark. Tom bit his lip and responded to the drummer. "Well the fans won't be too happy if we play and Mark doesn't sing at all. He's got no voice. He could barely move earlier." Tom chuckled, "Except when the doctor tried to get close. Then he got a little feisty."

Travis smiled, well aware of Mark's aversion to doctors. "So what's the deal then? You going to take him back to your house or his hotel? If we're not playing tonight it makes no sense to hang out here."

Tom nodded, thinking about his choices. Jen was at home. He didn't really want to explain why he was hanging all over Mark when at the slightest cough from Jen or the kids sent him running for the hills. 

"His hotel. It's closer, he won't have to be in the car for as long." Tom made up an excuse, hoping Travis would buy it.

"Yea, okay man. You want help getting him there?" Travis asked.

Tom sighed, relief washing over him. "Yea. That's be rad. Thanks."

Tom looked down at Mark, "Mark, come on dude, time to get up. We're gonna get you back to the hotel. You can sleep there." 

Mark groaned and nuzzled Tom's stomach, causing the younger man to flush at the butterflies in his stomach and the smile that he tried desperately to keep off his face. 

Travis jumped in to help, pulling Mark to his feet. "Dude, you need to stand up!"

Mark flopped against Travis, nearly knocking the shorter man over. Tom stood and quickly grabbed for Mark. He turned him so that the bassist was facing him and spoke quietly to him. 

"Mark, I'm going to take you back to your hotel. You got to walk to the car though." 

Mark shook his head, falling into Tom. Tom smiled as Mark tucked his head under Tom's chin. "Mark, I can't carry you buddy. My back is all screwed up. Maybe if you weren't such a heifer..."

Tom trailed off and jumped a little bit when Mark pinched his nipple through his shirt and jacket. Tom laughed and wiped at his nose. 

"Mark, if you really don't think you can walk I'm going to have to go get Dylan or one of the other security guys." Tom watched as Mark shook his head. 

"Alright man. Hang here with Trav for a minute. I'm going to go grab my stuff. I'll be right back." Tom paused, waiting for Mark to sit back down before looking at his standing friend. 

Without even words, Travis knew what Tom was asking. "Yea, I'll wait till you get back."

Tom left quickly and returned just as fast. He had his backpack strapped to his back and walked across the room to pick up Mark's shoulder bag too. He placed it over his shoulder and moved the strap over his head and across his chest. 

Moving back to Mark, Tom stood close to him, helping the older man stand up and move to the door. Travis bid the two friends farewell with promises to check in later. 

^*^*^*^*^*^

"Mark, I need to get your hotel key, okay? I'm not feeling up your ass." Tom said with a small smile, laughing at his own humor. 

Tom began coughing when he swore he heard Mark croak,"You can if you want." He couldn't be sure though, Mark was losing his voice so things were hard to understand. 

Tom shifted the bag of medicine that he had stopped to pick up for Mark and reached in Mark's tight black jeans for his wallet. Finding the leather, he pulled it out and tried not to think about how his own pants tightened as his hand brushed over Mark's ass. 

He opened the wallet, smiling at the goofy picture on his license and pulled out he silver key card. Sliding it into the lock, Tom opened the door and helped Mark into the hotel room. Mark was exhausted, he collapsed onto the bed nearest him and closed his blue eyes. 

"T-" Mark tried speaking, "To- -elp." The brown eyes singer assumed he was asking for help getting into bed. 

"Medicine first. Meh; I guess NyQuil will be fine since you're going to sleep anyways." Tom reasoned as he pulled out the dark liquid medicine. 

Mark groaned and tried to turn and crawl away from his friend. Tom laughed at Mark's pathetic attempt. He sneezed and blew his nose on a soft tissue he had also purchased from the pharmacy. 

"Mark, you're taking your medicine, then we can both nap. Taking care of you is exhausting!" Tom measured oh the right amount of NyQuil and sat next to Mark. 

Holding out the medicine cup, Tom waited for Mark to turn over and take the medicine. Mark shook his head and looked at Tom. Mark's blue eyes were bloodshot and watery from his sickness. Tom tilted his head in disbelief. 

"Really Mark? You're pushing it!" Tom tried to sound serious but couldn't keep the smile off his face. 

Mark pushed himself up onto his elbows and opened his mouth. Tom quickly dumped the dark medicine into Mark's awaiting mouth before he decided he didn't want to take the NyQuil. 

Tom laughed and kissed Mark's forehead at the grossed out expression that Mark was making after tasting the horrible medicine. Both Mark and Tom's eyes widened as Tom's lips connected with Mark's warm head. 

Tom pulled back and whispered an apology. "I'm sorry, I told you I wouldn't do that anymore..." Tom trailed off and looked down at his fingers, picking at his nails as if he had nail polish on them still. 

Mark blinked slowly, his eyes becoming hooded as the moments ticked by. He smiled finally at Tom and fell back against the pillows. 

Tom bit at his missing lip ring, fluttering his long eyelashes and watched Mark begin to fall asleep, the medicine kicking in quickly. 

Mark's mouth opened slightly, letting the sick man breathe deeply and loudly. Tom smiled and kissed him once more on the forehead. "I know I told you too that I'd never say it again, but Mark, I never stopped loving you."


End file.
